


The Galactic Girl's Guidebook to Sexual Success in Uncertain Times

by Devil_Theory



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, see chapter notes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devil_Theory/pseuds/Devil_Theory
Summary: A collection of short scenes involving everyone's favorite ladies from the SWTOR universe. May contain story spoilers, but each chapter opened with a reference for the time/location of the scene. The works combine headcanons, implications, and outright crack to make a little homage to the extreme lesbian energy that powers the sabers and starships of some of the galaxy's greatest heroes.Can be read as part of a wider connected universe or as standalone pieces. Each character is personalized to my preferred play choices.
Relationships: Elara Dorne/Female Republic Trooper, Female Bounty Hunter/Mako (Star Wars), Kaliyo Djannis/Female Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine, Kira Carsen/Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Lana Beniko/Female Republic Trooper
Kudos: 3





	The Galactic Girl's Guidebook to Sexual Success in Uncertain Times

**Author's Note:**

> Cipher/Kaliyo, cw for dom/sub, gunplay, and the many misfortunes of 2V-R8

_Captain's cabin, X-70B Phantom-class prototype **Tracer-01**. Adrift in Imperial space following the successful elimination of the Ghost Cell._

Cipher Nine wondered if Kaliyo knew her original name. The woman was generally happy to call her "agent," but she was always looking for ways to catch her latest partner off-guard. Nine supposed turning her birthname into one of the many cutesy nicknames Kaliyo adopted when they knew their space wasn't bugged might do the trick. Other people might think it was strange, the things that got under her skin. She'd just killed one of the most prolific assassins in the galaxy -- no problem. She'd followed Kaliyo's instructions to wait at the foot of her own bed, naked apart from the fresh kolto patch on her shoulder where her sleek blast vest's strap had turned out to be made of less durable material than the rest of the piece -- fine. As far away as the memory of Csilla was, the blue in her skin reflected the comfort she had with the cold, and even being deprived of her usual clothing allowance in their hook-ups didn't phase her. 

Names did, though. Maybe it was how hard she, an alien, had to work to earn the one she wore now, but the first time Kaliyo called her a slut in bed, Nine stunned her with the blaster that stayed under her pillow when they fucked. The second time, Kaliyo did a sweep of her quarters and had her keep both hands under one boot (still dirty with the blasted grime of Nar Shaddaa, mind you) while she said it over and over, and eventually got around to making Nine say it. That was just getting started for Kaliyo. Getting even had taken a lot more debasement. 

Nine wasn't complaining, though. Kaliyo wasn't her girlfriend or anything as fragile as all that. She kept up past their first drunken dare because the rattataki knew how to keep revving things forward without blinking. Life was a speeder chase, and where Nine saw winning as the goal, Kaliyo was happy to see what a crash could offer in entertainment. 

She wasn't being very quick today, though. Probably on purpose. She'd called the shot that Nine took in the shoulder, but the agent let it land anyway to avoid testing the ragtag molytex getup that her partner called armor. Sure, it would probably hold up. Sure, she'd been told over and over not to cover for Kaliyo at her own expense. She had brass for days, she could take it, she was a _top_ , after all. None of it would stop Nine in the next fight, of course, but that was part of what made the relationship fun. Kaliyo dug her nails in to get under Nine's skin, but all the agent had to do when she wanted to return the favor was care. 

Didn't help her blasted knees. Stress position training was all part of the program, even before Imperial Intelligence. You could learn to endure, but you could never learn to ingore the in-betweens. And under the kolto patch, her fucking shoulder hurt. 

Finally, a crisp _woosh_ sent the cabin door sliding open, and Kaliyo strode inside. Confident as ever, she still had her blaster on her hip and the smell of Tatooine sun on her skin. The only thing different about her look now was that she'd ditched her coat, left her shirt unbuttoned just enough to make a point, and rolled up her sleeves so that Nine knew she'd be getting a beating despite the thought fight. Good. When Kaliyo started letting up, they both knew they'd have to call things off. Neither of them was in a position to give a real damn, and Nine was already stretched beyond the limits of her pristine mission-first mindset. And nearly beyond the limits of her aching joints. So it was up miss freedom and anarchy to keep to the unspoken rules of the relationship. 

"Damn, agent," she said, laying a hand on a cocked-out hip. Near the blaster. "Never seen someone go from impressive to pathetic so fast." 

Nine struggled not to roll her eyes. Kaliyo was into humiliation, but she only found most of the jabs trite. And the others too sharp. Not that she'd ever let Kaliyo apologize. "Glad to know you were impressed. Saving your skin again wasn't easy." 

Kaliyo snorted. She hit the access panel to close the door behind herself and walked over to the space between the bed and the nightstand. On one side of her were the various toys she'd brought or had Nine buy, laid out neatly on the bed next to a perfectly-folded Imperial Intelligence uniform that wouldn't be given back until the Cipher had performed up to her partner's expectations. On the other was a pricey Corellian drink that Nine had been instructed to prepare before kneeling at the foot of the bed. Instructed very specifically. 

Kaliyo picked up the glass and took a sip. Nine saw the motion in her peripheral, but knew better than to turn her head and hope for a reaction. Head forward was part of her assigned position, and trial and error taught her not to test Kaliyo's perceptive prowess. After a moment, she got the answer she was hoping for. "Not bad, agent. You might be able to go undercover as a mediocre bartender one day.

"But back to your big mouth. I was impressed, yeah, but don't forget," Nine felt Kaliyo grab the injured shoulder with just enough force to make a point. "This skin is mine too." Oof. Her voice had dropped. She was pissed and turned on enough that this would be quick. Might need more kolto. 

"Yes, Keeper," Nine responded, knowing damn well where the line between being cute and getting in real trouble was. There was one exact octave where it lived. 

Kaliyo chuckled, and Nine supposed she'd saved herself for now. "Blast, that's cheesy. You're lucky the accent makes it kinda sexy, too." 

Calling her Keeper was not something that Nine approved of, but it was not presented as optional once the woman got it in her head that it'd be funny. _Besides_ past Kaliyo's voice teased. _Anyone who matters can take one look at us and know I'm the real boss, right?_ Right. 

"Alright, agent. First things first. You've lost your chance to come tonight." 

That broke her. "What?" She protested. "Kaliyo, no. You know that's not fair. It's been more than a month, and --" 

"You arguing with me?" There was an edge of danger in her voice again, but Nine didn't care. Limits were limits, and training to take pain didn't help you learn to lose pleasure. Kaliyo edged her for hours a week, and she'd only made it this far because she'd been promised that the next time they had _real_ downtime between missions, she'd get enough orgasms to make her miss being denied. That was today, with analytics after the Tatooine operation still ongoing. Even on her best behavior, Nine struggled with Kaliyo's insistence on this one thing. And she wasn't on her best behavior -- she'd just been shot yesterday. 

"We had a deal, and that was the only reason I agreed to this silly restriction in the first - ah!" 

She'd started to stand up. Bad move. A white fist in her silver hair wrenched her back down to her knees, which gave out at the sudden impact after so long on the shining panels of her floor. She crumpled into a messy side-sit. Her arm moved for the compartment under the bed where one of the five weapons Kaliyo hadn't yet discovered was hidden, but it was still stiff from the wound. With remarkable speed, dexterity, and grip, the rattataki collected both the Cipher's wrist in one hand. Pressure on her hair eased up, and soon her hands we bound behind her by a thin span of grappling wire. She could slip out of it if she really tried, of course. 

"You agreed because I told you to do something, just like always. And you'll agree to whatever I tell you to do now. Right?" Kaliyo grabbed her hair again and pulled back until the agent's shoulderblades hit the edge of the bed. That would bruise, but it put her weight somewhere bearable. Damn. All that fire and fury, and Kaliyo couldn't resist giving her a little reassurance. They'd have to talk about that. Later. 

"No," she insisted, not quite willing to roll over so easily. She let her meticulously-shaped eyebrows furrow. "No, K--" 

Kaliyo had come around, shoved her boot heel right up against Nine's exposed cunt, and shoved the barrel of the blaster that was now in one hand into Nine's open mouth. "You were gonna say Keeper, I bet," the woman said, her cold glare daring Nine to so much as twitch without permission. 

There was a twinge of doubt in the agent's mind. She was sure the safety was on, but her brain was practically wired for worst-case threat assessment. They usually talked about things beforehand, even if they pretended they didn't. This was new. Dangerous. Irresponsible. Fuck, she was wet, and Kaliyo would make her clean that off her boot. She stayed frozen, letting her angry stare fade into a worried one. 

"That's better," Kaliyo said, smiling. She did love to win an argument. "Now, the way I see it, we've probably got half a day before we have to make another jump. You're well on your way to spending all of it getting edged in medbay while I make holorecordings for some friends in the Red Light sector who've always wanted to see a Chiss beg. But I do kinda owe you for the blasterbolt, so I'm gonna be nice. Be a good slut and show me how much you love my new blaster, and maybe we see about letting you keep that Imperial anonymity." 

There were times when Nine wondered just how much she could gamble on her assessment of Kaliyo's psych profile. At the moment, there wasn't any room for that. With less consideration than she'd ever let herself get away with before meeting Nem'ro's one-time enforcer, she carefully swirled her tongue around the barrel, tasting tinges of oil and residual carbon, and then pushed her head forward, bobbing on the blaster and trying to avoid shutting her eyes in embarrassment. 

"See? You can be a good girl when you really want to." 

Before either of them could decide where to take things next, the _swoosh_ of the door sent electric alarms through Nine's whole system. Her hands were free in less than a second, the blaster out of her mouth without even hitting her teeth in a testament to just how well she and Kaliyo knew each others' reflexes. Before she could get to the knife, Kaliyo's blaster fired, and Nine's mind ground the scene into slow motion for her. 

Keen eyes saw the saliva vaporize as the barrel discharged, leaving wisps of flash-heated steam in the air between Kaliyo and their intruder. Instead of a stowed-away Ghost Cell assassin, the bolt had seared through the largely cosmetic bronzium chestplate of the ship's steward droid. 

"Oh... my..." 2V-R8 managed to say, just before his photoreceptors when dark and he hit the ship's deck in a sparking heap. 

"Kaliyo!" Nine shouted, mostly because it was all she could think to say.

The rattataki holstered her blaster. "What? I told that damn droid to clean like fifty different things. Some of them aren't even real ship parts." 

Nine narrowed her eyes. "You realized it was him before you pulled the trigger." 

Her partner turned, shrugging. "You'd have wanted a memory wipe anyway. This was quicker. Besides, it's not like it's the first time." 

"Sure," Nine muttered. "But sooner or later someone's going to ask why we keep requisitioning droid parts for a non-combat model. And before you say it, Intelligence isn't going to consider their top-line model a suitable form of target practice." 

All she got in response was another shrug. "C'mon. Cute as you were, that killed my mood. Lay back on the bed and I'll get you off. At least then you'll shut up about the droid." 

Kaliyo gestured, and Nine couldn't avoid catching the problem. "Kaliyo... your hand is trembling." 

The other woman looked down, feigning surprise in a way that might have been convincing to someone else. "Oh yeah," she said. "Must still be coming off the stims from that fight. Lucky for you I was gonna use my mouth. Unless you changed your mind." 

Damn her. Nine had memorized the full list of stimulants Kaliyo favored and their potential side effects, length of viability, and common sources before they'd left Hutta. That tremble was going to be a problem. It meant Kaliyo was breaking the rules. But Nine couldn't bring herself to turn down the offer, and the woman knew it. 

"No," she sighed, starting to move things off the sheets. "I haven't changed my mind." Not yet, at any rate. It wasn't a luxury either of them could afford. Maybe that was the real danger with Kaliyo. She never looked at the price tag, because she was rarely the one buying. 


End file.
